Representative image of a saree.
iStock Photo
Fair exchange is no robbery; our family embraces this principle in letter and spirit. We believe in give and take. For instance, saris. We don’t have to worry about saris fitting us; that is the great advantage of saris. If my older sister likes a sari of mine, she will ask, “Where did you get this? Such saris are not available where I live.” If it gives you the impression that she lives at the North Pole, it won’t be far wrong. Actually, she is a resident of Kerala, from where I have bought some good cotton saris. I took the hint and offered her the sari, which she accepted with delight. She very generously offered me one of her brass lamps, which I had admired.
After a few months, I saw my younger sister sporting the same sari. I remarked that it was a replica of the sari I had given our older sister. She then confessed that it was the very same sari. The days of exchange and barter are in vogue!
Another case was a piece of Khurja pottery. I had picked it up at an exhibition. My niece admired it so much that I gave it to her. Then I happened to visit her sister and saw a plant growing out of it. She saw me looking speculatively at it and said, rather smugly (or so I thought). “Isn’t it pretty?”
“Yes, very,” I answered.
“Gowri gave it to me,” she explained (in exchange for what, I wondered). Gowri is her younger sister, to whom I had originally given the piece of pottery.
Then there was the time when my cousin was quite taken up with a leather handbag I had. She wanted to buy a handbag just like mine. It is a neat thing that holds quite a lot without being bulky. I should have known from experience to give it to her right away. She looked for it everywhere but couldn’t find it. The ones she saw were either too big—like a haversack, she said—or too small—just about enough to hold loose change! So I gave her mine, much to her delight. She got up and went out. Going into her garden, she brought out a beautiful potted plant and said, “This is for your brother.” My brother is a gardening enthusiast.
Time passed. My cousin’s daughter came to see me. And what did I see her carrying? The very same handbag I had given her mother. She caught me staring at it. “I have ways of taking,” she said, grinning unrepentantly. “Amma was reluctant to part with it. She said she had got a bag that suited her needs perfectly after a long and unsuccessful search, thanks to your generosity. But I talked her into parting with it. And here I am!”
She swung the bag in triumph! Do mothers get anything in exchange?